


Lockers

by pastelcredence



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff, Handsy Original Percival Graves, High School Freshman Credence Barebone, High School Senior Percival Graves, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Private School, Rating May Change, Touch-Starved Credence Barebone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelcredence/pseuds/pastelcredence
Summary: On his first day ever of high school, previously home schooled Credence Barebone makes more than just friends with Percival Graves and gets swept up into an old tradition at Ilvermorny High School of seniors choosing their own pet freshmen.





	1. First Day, At First Sight

The first day of school was terrifying before it had even officially begun.

Credence Barebone gripped his class schedule and tried to shrink into a row of lockers. The flood of students didn’t seem to be receding, despite a short, shrill bell ringing so loudly that Credence jumped out of his skin. He had to make it to classroom 3-C before the next bell rang, and hopefully without being trampled, shoved, or talked to. More than anything, he was afraid of being noticed, of being put in someone’s spotlight. He had no idea what he would do if that happened.

Holding the schedule close to his face to hide behind, he re-read the smudged print. First Period: Early American History with Mr. Name-Unreadable. That was fine. His step sister, Chastity, had said that the worst thing you could get for first period was P.E. Credence didn’t have P.E., whatever that was, until sixth period, right at the end of the day.

Chastity wasn’t going to help him, even on his first day ever of school. She’d made that much clear when she’d refused to enter the building with him, or sit near him on the school bus, or even stand near him at the bus stop even though they were the only two there. He’d asked her why and she turned her nose up and said, “Your haircut and your you-ness and I don’t want you telling on me to Ma.”

It was that last bit that really stung. It was a minor miracle that Ma was letting either of them attend private school. Ma had home-schooled Credence for as long as he could remember and Chastity had joined him when she’d been adopted two years prior, but last year she’d gotten old enough for the county to send her to Ilvermorny High School. The county had sent Ma a stipend to cover the cost of tuition and used uniforms. Credence had no idea if Chastity had gone to school before that—they didn’t have the sort of relationship where they told each other anything. She probably had all sorts of secret friends at school that she could tell everything to, but Credence didn’t. He’d never been good at talking to anyone, and anyway, he didn’t want Ma to get mad if he talked to the wrong sort of person. Ma had told him not to talk to his wicked classmates lest he learn the lies they were being taught. His hands were still stinging raw from when Ma had seen his class schedule and saw he had Sex Ed. He hadn’t picked it, but Ma punished him for it anyway. Then she’d called the school and told them that Credence would have a study period during that class instead.

So he’d be alone for third period, just before lunch, according to his schedule. That suited him fine. This mad crush of people was making his heart clog his throat and his vision go gray at the edges. It was really hot and loud and classroom 3-C felt like it was miles away. He kept a shoulder sliding along the lockers and walls and tucked his chin to his chest as he made slow but consistent progress.

There was a map of the school on the back of the folder the school had sent him, and he’d spent all night studying it as the idea of getting lost and being late had yawned open at him every time he tried to close his eyes and sleep. 3-C was now in sight and the hallway only had a few stragglers left in it as the second bell rang.

His palm was sweat slippery on the door handle and when entering it was obvious speaking had suddenly ceased. Dozens of students and one teacher turned to stare at Credence. For a split second, Credence nearly turned around to walk back out again, but the teacher sighed and said, “Name?”

“Credence.” It was whisper soft out of habit. Ma never let him raise his voice.

There was a long, grueling moment where the teacher looked like he was waiting for something more before he sighed again and looked over a printout on his desk. “Good thing you’re the only Credence here, Mr. Barebone.” The teacher pointed to the center of the classroom, the only place where desks were empty. “Take a seat.”

Students were sat along the windows of the far wall, turning away from Credence to look out into the courtyard. There were students sat all along the very back of the classroom, turning away from Credence to hunch together like conspirators. And there were students sat in the very front of the classroom, peevishly turning away from the interruption of Credence to give their all back to the teacher and his whiteboard. Credence took the seat least surrounded, the one in front of and beside blissfully empty desks.

He put his backpack by his feet and didn’t move again. He kept his head lowered and his eyes on the teacher, who went back to what he’d been saying—“...first semester will cover Pilgrims and even some fun things like the Salem Witch trials...” His name was on the whiteboard in crooked block letters. Credence didn’t want to draw any attention to himself by shuffling his things and getting out his notebook and pen. The best he could do was put his schedule in front of him and pretend to read it one more time.

Mr. Name-Unreadable was getting ready to pass them the syllabus when the door opened again and another late student sauntered in. It was a man—or no, a student, because he had a backpack slung over his shoulder. Before the teacher could even ask, the man-student said “Graves” and, smirking, took a desk next to Credence.

He threw himself into the seat and let out a long breath like getting here was a trek up the Alps. Credence couldn’t stop looking at the man-student even as the other students lost interest and the teacher wearily went back to handing out papers and reminding them all to get to class on time.

Unlike Credence, Graves shaved; there was a fleck of foam below his ear and the shadow of a beard just below his skin. There was a tiny bit of prematurely white hair at his temple, making him look older than the rest of his face would lead you to believe. When he turned to Credence and locked eyes, Credence thought _black like mine_ , before Credence came back to reality and snapped his gaze back to the papers on his desk. Someone had put a syllabus on top of his schedule instead of handing the whole stack to Credence to pass along. He was grateful to have avoided any interaction.

Skimming the page, his eyes stuck on Salem Witch Trials. There was a prickling sensation in his scalp and his eyes darted towards Graves. Graves held Credence’s gaze again before Graves’s eyes slowly slid back to the front of the room. Credence put his head back down but couldn’t read anymore. He pinched at the sores on his hands and thought about this mysterious Graves and how to get out of the classroom when the bell rang. He would wait until everyone else had left so he wouldn’t have to touch anyone. If he was the last one to leave, he could watch Graves go without Graves looking back. Credence’s nails caught a scab between his knuckles and he picked at it lightly. He didn’t want the wound to open but he was comforted knowing it was there.

Time passed interminably but finally the bell cut off Mr. Name-Unreadable’s monologue and every student but Credence and Graves jumped up from their seats and rushed to exit. Credence sat motionless, waiting for a quiet break, and Graves sat sprawled out, waiting for something, too. When even Mr. Name-Unreadable had left, not saying a thing to his last two students, Credence reached for his backpack and papers and stood up. Graves stood up just then as well and the movement made Credence startle.

“Gimme your schedule,” Graves said, sticking his hand out.

Without thought, Credence jerkily thrust his papers toward Graves. He kept his head bowed.

Graves took the papers and read them over. The room was comfortingly quiet, just the two of them and everyone else shut out.

“How are you in senior classes?” Graves didn’t take his eyes off the schedule, which made it easier for Credence to think of an answer. Graves’s eyes made Credence feel like static.

“Ma picked them.” Credence shuffled his feet. His class schedule, like now, had been out of his hands.

“Ma? Your mother?” Graves’s eyes had narrowed at something on the page, like he was puzzling out a riddle. There was a crease between his eyes that Credence couldn’t stop staring at.

“She’s not my mother.” He felt stupid the second he said it. Stupid and ugly. A motherless child. Ma had always made this point very clear.

Graves grunted and finally looked at Credence. He licked his lips and didn’t blink. “How old are you? Twelve? You a kid genius?”

Credence blushed fire hot and shook his head. “Fourteen,” he squeaked. He was small; thin and hunched over and smooth skinned, but he’d hoped he looked old enough to blend in.

“Kids look like babies to me,” Graves laughed, a booming sound to fill the room.

Credence didn’t laugh with him, but he did lift his head and stare directly into Graves’s face. It was an open, dashing, roguish face, the very picture of the sort of person Ma always said to avoid.

The door opened like an ache and students came trickling in. Graves suddenly looked pissed at the interruption. “Come on, little boy,” he said as he grabbed at Credence’s jacket sleeve and tugged, “I’ll walk you to your next class.” He winked at Credence and Credence felt faint. “Wouldn’t want you getting lost, little lamb.”

Graves went ahead and Credence followed very close behind, Graves’s broad back acting like a shield against the world. Credence felt safe and well hidden and he could smell the detergent in Graves’s uniform. He very nearly closed his eyes, the feeling of sudden safety lulling him into perfect step with Graves.

“This is it.” Graves put his hand on Credence’s neck and pulled him around to Graves’s front.

Credence’s heart was fluttering wildly—no one touched him, ever. It was thrilling. Who knew? He nodded slightly and stood stock still, wanting to let the moment go on forever. But the evil bell rang again and Graves let go.

Graves opened the door for Credence and a few other students dashing in, and said: “I’ll meet you here after class. Don’t go anywhere without me.”

Graves had a voice that was light and full of command. Credence smiled shyly and said, “Thank you.” Then he was swept into the room in a flow of other bodies and spent the entirety of second period math class in a trance, all thoughts on Graves. He didn’t even notice that he didn’t have his schedule or that he’d rubbed the scabs off of his knuckles.


	2. Bandages & Harry Potter

“Is that blood?” was the first thing Graves said when he met Credence in the classroom after the first bell. He snatched Credence’s hand and held it up, his grip on Credence’s fingers. It felt welcome and like they shouldn’t do it, all at the same time.

No one’d ever held Credence’s hand before. It made him flustered and happy and he nodded, yes, that’s blood. He’d just noticed it himself. It happened often, that the wounds that Ma made would open up later when Credence started to bother them. It was just a small amount of blood this time, just a little rivulet between his fingers. He hoped he didn’t get any on Graves. That would’ve been embarrassing.

Graves frowned and Credence tightened up at that expression. But he squeezed Credence’s fingers before dropping his hand and barking, “Follow me,” before leaving the room, Credence once again in tow.

Credence really liked this part, the walking close to Graves. In the periphery of his vision the other students in the hallway just became a river of black and white uniforms, and Graves and Credence flowed past them like water over stones. Inconsequential when what Credence really had his eyes on was the way the fabric of Graves’ jacket pulled across his shoulders and how his shoulder blades moved when he swung his arms. Credence wondered what Graves’s schedule was like and hoped that Graves had a free third period, too. Credence felt very lucky which was very unusual for him. He was the sort of person more likely to trip on a crack in the sidewalk or get hit with bird poop, and he was very good at accidentally making other people mad. He thought it might have something to do with the shape of his face or the wickedness Ma was always trying to beat out of him.

Either way, it didn’t matter. His face and wickedness and bad luck didn’t seem to bother Graves at all. His forehead hit Graves’ back when Graves suddenly stopped walking. Credence reeled back a step and Graves turned to talk to him. “I think this is where you need to go.” _Administration Office_ was painted on the pebbled glass pane of an imposing door. “Let’s go ask.”

Credence wasn’t sure what they would ask but he was fine leaving it all up to Graves, who marched them through the door and up to an older lady sitting behind a counter. Graves slung his backpack off his shoulder and pulled a folded up paper out of the front pocket. He read it over quickly while the lady patiently waited for them to speak up. “Credence,” Graves read, “...Barebone has a free study period. Where does he need to go to do that?”

Graves handed the paper to the lady and Credence realized it was his own schedule. Credence didn’t really need it if Graves had everything under control.

The lady took the page and typed something into a computer. “You go to the library and sign in there.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Graves took the paper and then took Credence’s elbow and steered them out of the room as the second bell rang. Credence flinched at the sound and Graves gripped him harder.

Out in the hall, they were practically alone. “I’m sorry,” Credence whimpered, acutely aware of how much Graves was doing for him.

“For what?” Graves didn’t stop walking and he didn’t let go of Credence or even look at him as they sped along.

Credence didn’t bother to watch where he was going; he just kept his eyes on Graves and felt bad. “I’m making you late to class.”

Graves laughed and Credence went wide eyed. Chuckling, Graves explained, “You aren’t making me do shit.” He adjusted his grip to grasp Credence by the bicep instead, pulling him closer. “Don’t worry, my boy. I make the decisions.” Graves’s smile darkened his face and Credence wanted to take a picture and keep it in his backpack, to look at it when he was scared—a reminder not to be afraid when Credence had a fearsome thing like Graves to take care of him.

At the double doors to the library, Graves stopped and pulled Credence against his side, pressing them together. He let go of Credence’s arm and handed Credence his schedule. “The librarian is about a thousand years old, so let me do the talking.”

As if Credence would have it any other way.

The library was dark with tall book stacks blocking the few windows and weak light from old overhead lamps. It was one of the oldest parts of a very old school, and it smelled musty and dusty and unloved, a lot like Credence’s attic bedroom. Credence loved it instantly for its comforting familiarity and million corners to hide in. Graves put his hand to the small of Credence’s back and gently pushed him toward an ancient woman with big hair and blood red fingernails. “Good morning, Mrs. Esposito.”

Mrs. Esposito gave Graves a withering look. “Why aren’t you in class.” It wasn’t a question, just an accusation that required an answer.

Graves stood up straight and smiled blandly. His hand was getting hotter just above Credence’s belt. “I’m showing the new kid around. He’s got a study period and the front office wants him here.” He gestured to Credence. “Show her.”

Credence held out his schedule and Mrs. Esposito snatched it. The thought that this woman could be friends with Ma flitted through his mind as the librarian scowled at the paper.

“Fine, fine,” she finally said and waved them away. Graves took the schedule from her and started to lead Credence away as Mrs. Esposito added: “But you,” she wagged her finger at Graves, “better get to class!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Graves grumbled but kept pulling Credence towards the stacks. “There’s desks in the back,” he whispered to Credence. Into the narrow aisles they went, winding their way to a dark corner where small, single person desks were pushed against a wall. Each desk had a matching chair and Graves gently pushed Credence into one.

Credence shuffled his backpack under the seat and Graves put his own backpack on the desk and began to rifle to the bottom of it. He pulled out a red, plastic box, and put his backpack on the floor to make room for the box on the desktop. Opened, it was full of band-aids and little packets and other first aid things, a lot of which Credence recognized. There were little scissors and tablets and tweezers. It looked full and new.

“I like to be prepared,” Graves explained while he pulled out a little packet and ripped it open. It was an antiseptic towelette. “I keep it in my locker.” He picked up Credence’s hand and wiped the sluggish blood away. It stung but Graves blew across Credence’s knuckles until the sting stopped and a tingle in Credence’s stomach began. “I don’t think I’ve ever needed it to use it on the very first day of school, though.” There was that chuckle again. Credence liked it a lot, even if it was at his expense.

Putting Credence’s hand on the desk top, Graves picked up another packet and cut the corner off. He squeezed gel onto Credence’s wounds and dabbed them with his fingertip. Satisfied, he pulled out a band-aid and tried to find the best way to lace it over Credence’s open wound and between his trembling fingers. “You’re shaking,” Graves said as he worked.

“I’m sorry,” was all Credence could think to say.

“Don’t be.” Graves picked up Credence’s hand again and studied his handiwork. “It’s cute.”

Credence had even less idea of what to say to that and he froze, burning hot and icy cold all at once. He’d never been called cute before. Was it because Graves seemed to think he looked like a baby?

Graves laughed again, like Credence was never going to stop being funny. “That blush is cute, too. You’re cute all over, Credence Barebone.” His eyes went dark again. “You think I’m cute, too. I can tell.”

Credence’s mouth opened but no sound came out. What was happening? Was cute the same as kind? Was cute the same as safe? The same as I want to look at you all the time, please?

And then Graves’s lips were feather soft over the band-aid, brushing Credence’s fingers. “Did you do this to yourself?”

That was even harder to answer and it took a bloated moment to understand the question. Credence hung his head and hunched his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I… I can’t help it. Sometimes...”

Graves didn’t let the next pause hang. “Sometimes, what? You hurt yourself?”

“Sometimes I like to feel it, to… when I’m thinking.” It was hard to explain, but Credence hadn’t ever had anyone to talk to about it, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. But there was also the full truth, and he had to be sure he could trust Graves with it. Trust that it wouldn’t get back to Ma. “Because Ma, she says she has to, for me, and then they’re there… and… I don’t know.”

Graves grip on his fingers got very tight. “Your Ma? She has to what?” Another pause while Credence’s mouth opened and shut and Graves’s grip got even tighter, Graves’s face even darker. “...She does this? Cuts you up?”

“It’s not, it’s not cuts...” This was going all the wrong way. Credence didn’t want Graves to be mad, but this always, always, always happened when Credence tried to talk to people. He was no good at it. He was just no good overall. “They’re from the belt. My belt. When I’m wicked--”

“But I saw you picking at them. That’s what you like?” Graves took Credence’s hand in both of his and let them rest entwined on the desk.

Credence nodded. That was pretty close to what he’d meant to say.

“If she does it again, tell me right away, Credence.” Graves stepped closer, standing over Credence with authority and age and experience. “I’ll take care of it.”

There was nothing to do but nod some more and say “thank you,” in his quiet, quivering voice, and feel warm at the thought of Graves touching him again. He’d take a beating every day for a little more of this, whatever this was.

“They gave you a map, right? Give it to me.” Graves thumb pressed on the band-aid.

Credence struggled to open his backpack one handed but eventually tugged out his folder and handed it to Graves. Graves let go of Credence and pulled a pen out of his own backpack. Disappointment tingled along Credence’s nerves.

Clicking his pen, Graves drew a little circle on the map. “This is the nurse's office. If you’re hurt and you can’t find me, go here and call me.” He wrote a number across the top. His handwriting was very tidy.

“I don’t have a phone.” Ever the let down, Credence frowned and looked at Graves’s shoes. They were oxfords, giving his outfit more the appearance of a proper suit than a school uniform.

“The nurse has one you can ask to use. You aren’t the only charity case in school.”

Oh. Was that what this was? It would explain how Graves was the nicest person Credence had ever met. Maybe this was Graves’s duty as a senior, to find the obvious losers and help them for a day.

“If you need me for anything else,” Graves grabbed Credence’s chin and made Credence face him, “just ask someone to find me. My name is Percival Graves. Say it.”

Credence licked his lips. “Percival Graves.” His mouth felt dry around the words.

If this was only for a day, Credence was going to selfishly have his one and only day of friendship. He’d pay for it later, somehow, but it would be worth it. He really did like this so much.

“Credence Barebone.” Graves said with a pleased smile. There seemed to be a hint of reluctance when he let go of Credence, like he wasn’t quite done studying Credence’s weird face or bad haircut. “I’ll tell all the seniors you’re mine. They’ll stay away.”

There was something reassuring about being someone’s pet project. It was a first for Credence to be special, to be picked out for something other than his faults. He couldn’t help but pinch at his wounded knuckles. The sting and the odd texture of the band-aid were grounding, proof this was real.

Graves put the tip of his pen to Credence’s map. “This is the cafeteria.” He moved it over a few inches. “We’re here, in the library.” These names were all printed on the map. The school spread out in neat lines and boxes of letters and numbers, sitting in a sea of white sprinkled with random words like _Soccer_ and _Tennis_. “This is the gym. I’ll meet you there after school.”

Credence jerked his head up, bug eyed and open mouthed. Was Graves not going to be with him again until the end of day?

Graves was still looking at the map. “This is where I park my car.” It was not in the _Parking Lot_ but rather just off the map, behind the school, past a white expanse simply called _Shaw Field_. Glancing at Credence, Graves paused.

Credence rubbed his eyes and his fingers came away damp. This was turning into a hard day, but he still wanted to have it all. He nodded to let Graves know he was still listening. The car was over there. He wouldn’t forget.

“It’s just the first day.” Graves put his hand on Credence’s head and smoothed down his hair, petting his pet project. “We’ll work it all out. You’ll know your place soon, my boy.”

Nodding again, like a toy with no other function, Credence was comforted by Graves’s assurances.

“Wait here while I make a copy of this.” He took Credence’s schedule from beneath the folder. “Did you bring anything to study?”

Credence kept nodding and dug into his backpack for the home-study booklet Ma had given him for just this occasion.

Graves read the title and snorted. “Really.” He scoffed and walked away.

 _Temperance: A Guide for Teenagers_. It was full of things he already knew because Ma had been drilling temperance and abstinence and rules, rules, rules into Credence his whole life. He opened it to page one and couldn’t bring himself to read it. His thoughts were rolling like storm clouds. He’d been in school for three hours and made a new friend, which was better than he’d ever hoped for. But his friend couldn’t stay with him the whole day, and that made being alone feel even worse than it did when Credence had truly been alone this morning. He hunched his shoulders and reminded himself that it would be fine because it would be like any other day.

Until he got home. Would he tell Ma about Graves? Would she be happy that he was taken care of at school? Or would she be mad? She wouldn’t be seeing Graves, just hearing about him. If Credence left out the part about Graves’s dark smile and broad shoulders and big hands, and only told the truth of his kindness, Ma would surely be glad? Though Credence wasn’t quite sure he knew what Ma was like when she was happy or glad or anything but stern and dedicated to her causes.

A hardback book thumped onto the booklet, startling Credence.

“Ever read this?” Graves’s sounded a little more animated, like he was presenting a treasure.

 _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_. Credence shook his head no. He might have heard of it in the context of things Ma had banned from their house, but Credence would leave this part out, too.

“You’ll love it. It’s about a boy who goes to a new school. You’ll really relate.” There was that laugh again.

Something tickled behind Credence’s bellybutton. He picked up the book and looked at the plastic wrapped cover. There was a boy flying on a broom through a stone archway. It didn’t look like it was about school so much as it was about things Ma hated. But Graves wanted Credence to read it, and that’s what Credence would do.

“I have to go sort out my schedule. Do you remember what to do later? Tell me.” Graves put his hands in his pockets and casually loomed over Credence.

His mind whirred trying to find the answer. “Wait for you?” He looked at the map and the circle and the number and the spot where Graves’s car should be. “After sixth period?”

“Very good!” That smile was bigger than ever. “I’ll find you sooner if I can. Try not to stare at any other students, alright? I want to feel special.” That laugh was even bigger.

Not sure what that meant, but wanting to repay the favor of friendship as best he could, Credence clutched the book to his chest and said: “I won’t! I promise!”

“Promises, promises.” The words dripped out of Graves like honey. “Stay out of trouble, Credence.” He reached out and ruffled Credence’s hair and before Credence could recover, Graves scooped up his things and strolled away, disappearing into the stacks.

Credence felt joyful and afraid in equal measure.


	3. You're Going the Wrong Way

The bell rang soon after, but Credence didn’t leave his seat. For a few moments he traced his fingertip over Graves’s phone number, letting it sink into memory. And then for a little while he hugged the hardback _Harry Potter_ and looked at nothing in particular and let his thoughts swirl like smoke. The near silence of the library was so much nicer than the rest of the school, so much easier to handle than the crush of students or drone of teachers. Eventually he pulled his lunch from his bag—a peanut butter sandwich, a carrot, and water—laid it out on the desk, and then ate mechanically as he began to read.

He didn’t get as far as Harry going to school before Credence saw himself in Harry’s shoes. Harry had a cupboard under the stairs and a pair of broken eyeglasses and Credence had an uninsulated attic and second hand things, and Harry had a loveless Aunt and Uncle where Credence had Ma, appointed by the state when Credence was small to make sure he was housed and sometimes fed. But Harry also had a life of little surprises, of bits of magic seeping into his everyday life. Credence didn’t have that unless you counted Graves, but Graves was probably like a character yet to come, not like magic itself, right? Reading on, Credence paused now and again to gaze at nothing and just think. It was a luxury he usually only had in his bed in the middle of the night, tempered by the weather and exhaustion and acute awareness of all the sounds churning in the house below him. When he was home he could never stop listening for Ma.

When the bell rang half an hour later, it startled him so badly that he knocked his knees on the underside of the desk. Panic settled over him like it did when he was caught out, and he looked left and right and clutched his book and couldn’t think of anything but gray and a high pitched noise. He got himself together enough to look at his schedule. He had less than ten minutes to get to 6A for his English class. He looked at the map—6A was down a wing not too far from here. The phone number on the map caught his eye and he suddenly felt better. Rushed still, but not choking. That just left what to do with the book so he went to find Mrs. Esposito.

She was right where they’d left her, filing her bloody nails and looking sour. Credence approached with caution. He held the book out to her and she crooked an eyebrow at him. Before he could ask to check it out, she accused, “Class is starting.”

Credence frowned and gently put the book on her desk and she went back to filing her nails. Credence cowered away—he could come back later, hopefully. Maybe there would be a different librarian, one less interested in class times and more interested in books. He’d be sure to ask Graves all about the ins and outs of the library, Credence’s potential sanctuary.

The second bell was about to ring when he got to 6A, and he shyly found a seat near a window, though another student gave him a dirty look as they went past, as if Credence had stolen the seat from them. Credence was too self conscious to get up now and move. Class started with everyone in their seats and Credence mutely raised his hand when his name was called. Everyone else chimed a bored or enthusiastic “Here!”

English wasn’t too awful. They started with a review, and Credence pretty much knew everything. He glanced around the room. The other students didn’t look like adults, not like they had in first period—they looked more like Credence, like babies as Graves would say. That was sort of comforting, but he still wished Graves could have been here. He smiled in lieu of a chuckle, thinking about how Graves would look, too old and big and adult surrounded by all these children.

Class ended early with remarks from the teacher about getting their textbooks at the end of the week. Until then, they would still be in review. The teacher let them know she was sure they had forgotten everything over the summer. Credence was a little confused; he had school in every season, so there was no time to forget anything. The semester’s reading list was handed out and Credence put it in his folder, sure to give it to Ma to look over later, and then they were all excused.

The extra time allowed Credence to wait for everyone to leave without feeling like he was making himself late. He looked at the schedule and map. He had Latin in 10B. A bit of a trek, but he would keep his head down and pretend Graves was in front of him, pushing everyone out of the way. That thought made him smile, too.

Latin was not like English. The teacher immediately only spoke Latin, which Credence had never heard before, having been taught from a book by himself at home. And he’d had to take a seat near the front, because the teacher demanded everyone move forward. There weren’t that many students in this class, and it made Credence a bigger target for the teacher’s potential attention.

By the time it was over, Credence had never been happier to hear that dreaded bell. He was strung out, twisting his hands together and pinching at his sores. He was one of the first students to sprint out of the room.

It was hard to breathe and in the hallway, narrowed by walls and noisy students, it wasn’t any better. Credence just began to walk in a direction without thinking, staying close to the edge and trying not to faint. He took big gulping breaths and reminded himself that he only had one more class, and then the day would be over.

“Credence!” Graves’s voice came like a miracle. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Graves was striding towards Credence, his face stern. When he caught up to Credence, he slung his arm around Credence’s shoulders and started marching them the way Credence had come.

“This one’s mine,” Graves said to someone walking alongside them.

“Wow, first day, huh?” The someone had a mustache on a round face. He was shorter than Graves, and not as handsome, but he had a merry smile turned to Credence and Graves seemed to approve of him.

“What can I say? I love the haircut.” Graves ruffled Credence’s hair. “Caught him staring. Love at first sight.”

Graves’s laugh infected the someone and Credence couldn’t tell if he should laugh too because he wasn’t sure what the joke was. He opted for trying to smile like they did, big and toothy.

“Hi,” said the someone to Credence. “I’m Kowalski. Jacob. Kowalski’s better. Or Jacob. Whichever you prefer.”

“Don’t confuse the freshman,” Graves chastised. “Call him Kowalski,” he said, close to Credence’s ear. “Where were you going? You look like you were going to cry.”

“Yeah, bud,” Kowalski’s eye twinkled with sympathy, “the first day ain’t that bad, right? You already got a great Dom. Hard part’s over.”

Graves grinned, pride coming off of him like summer sunlight.

Kowalski scoffed. “Some of us don’t have any classes with freshmen. We gotta look for our Subs out in the wild.”

Not understanding a single bit of the conversation, Credence still felt his own tingling pride in doing something right, even if he hadn’t meant to do it. Kowalski said it was supposed to be hard, this making friends with Graves, and Credence had done it in the first hour of school! He felt a lot better than he had leaving Latin. He could breath again.

“Here we are,” Graves announced. A lot of noise was coming from the other side of big, green double doors. Graves took Credence’s face in both his hands and said: “You’ll be fine. They’ll give you uniforms and maybe play dodge-ball. I’ll be back when the bell rings.”

“Oh, you got P.E.? That’s the pits.” Kowalski frowned and patted Credence’s shoulder.

“Shut up, Kowalski. Some of us enjoy being fit.” Graves slid his hands down from Credence’s flushed cheeks, fingertips tickling Credence’s neck.

“And some of us enjoy pastries,” Kowalski shrugged.

“Ignore him, my boy.” Graves turned his full attention back to Credence. “Get in there, have fun, and try not to let any balls hit you in the face.”

“Yeah, only Percy’s balls--” Kowalski’s advice was cut off by Graves elbowing him in the stomach.

“We’re late for chem.” Graves gave Kowalski a pointed look before turning back to Credence, ruffling Credence’s hair one last time, and departing with: “I’ll see you in an hour.”

They left, leaving Credence to face the unknown alone again. He screwed up his courage, bolstered by thoughts of being rescued by Graves, and slipped through the heavy doors into the gym.


	4. Meeting Peers & Gym Uniforms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think in canon that Tina is older than Queenie, but for this universe Queenie is one year ahead of Tina.

The class was large; not just the high ceilings and booming echoes of the room itself, but the number of uniformed children as well, most of whom were sitting on a bleacher pulled out from the wall, attentive to a very squat man in red shorts and a white polo shirt holding a whistle like it was a cigar. “My name,” the man shouted in a grizzly voice, “is Mr. Gnarlak! That’s _sir_ to you little creeps!”

Stomach knotting, Credence shuffled over to the bleacher and sat without capturing Mr. Gnarlak’s attention.

Mr. Gnarlak went on, undisturbed and tyrannical. “This is freshman physical education!” Well, that explained what P.E. stood for. It sounded neither easy nor fun. “They heaped all you little worms on me and I,” Mr. Gnarlak glared death from one side of the students to the other, “will have my _revenge_!”

Oh no, Credence blanched. What could that mean? Did they beat children here?

“Today you will line up and get your uniforms!” He pointed to the other end of the gymnasium, where there were big boxes sitting on a listing fold-out table. “Do _not_ complain about the sizes!” Another death glare to some kids whispering in the middle. “Because I! Don’t! Care!” Mr. Gnarlak took a deep breath and bellowed, “Alright, maggots! LINE UP!” And blew his whistle, which was even more shrill and scary than the school bell.

A mad swarm of students started thumping down the bleachers and the racket was deafening. Credence leapt out of the way, barely avoiding being knocked over, and got swept up into a long, winding line that suddenly came to a stop. Mr. Gnarlak paraded up and down the crooked row of children, muttering darkly. Satisfied the students had obeyed just enough to not deserve his wrath, Mr. Gnarlak went to the table at the front of the line and started handing out uniforms without any care as to size. Tall people were walking away with short shorts, and short people were walking away with shirts that were as long as dresses. Credence tried to quell his rising anxiety by running his fingers through his hair, as Graves might have done.

“Pardon me,” came an accented voice from behind Credence, “your rucksack’s open.”

He turned to look, but Accented Student wasn’t speaking to him, but to a disgruntled looking girl in loose slacks and an overly large jacket.

“Pardon yourself!” She huffed, yanking her zipper shut. “What’re you looking in other people’s bags for, anyway?”

“I wasn’t.” Accented Student didn’t look Angry Girl in the eye but rather at something in the distance to his left. Credence turned his head that way but didn’t see anything noticeable.

Angry Girl turned to face the front of the line, toward Credence and away from Accented Student, but she added snippily, “It’s not a _rucksack_. It’s a _backpack,_ just like everyone else’s!” The school had strict rules about uniforms, and that included everyone having matching bags. Credence had been lucky in that they found one with only one hole at the Salvation Army.

From under his lashes, Credence spied on Accented Student’s bag. It was a black backpack, just like Credence and the Angry Girl had but Accented Student’s bag was new and looked lumpy and like the lumps might be moving, but that had to be a trick of the fluorescent lights far overhead. Now that he’d eaten his lunch, Credence’s backpack only held his folder and papers; there wasn’t much point in having bags yet, unless you were like Graves and you were very prepared.

“Sorry.” Accented Student put his head down. Credence was instantly aware of the familiarity of body language, though Accented Student seemed to stand up straighter than Credence ever did.

“Where’re you from, anyway?” Angry Girl asked. She sounded less angry and more tired, resigned to passing the time in line with the people she ended up with. Credence hoped she wouldn’t suddenly ask him any questions.

“England.” Accented Student perked up. “By way of Sudan. Briefly.”

Angry Girl whirled around. “Sudan?” There was a hint in her disbelieving voice that she wanted to ask more.

“My father’s an emissary.” Accented Voice left it at that, but Angry Girl looked like she was waiting for more. When more didn’t come, she spun back around.

Credence heard her mutter, “Lucky you, having a father.”

Though it wasn’t for anyone to hear, Credence still nodded in agreement. Yes, how lucky and nice to a have a father. What must that be like?

“Because of… politics,” Accented Voice explained needlessly, “I was sent to board here. Where I’m told it’s safer.”

“It’s only the best school in all of New England!” Angry Girl threw her hands up in exasperation. “Probably all of America!”

“That’s good.” Accented Student said softly and the conversation died.

They were close to the front of the line now and could hear Mr. Gnarlak making demands for students to shut up and to hurry. Eventually Credence was at the front and in a quick flurry a t-shirt and shiny shorts were thrown at him. He bolted away and went to sit back at the bleacher, where most of the other students had gathered.

The shirt looked like it would be alright, but he wouldn’t be sure if the shorts fit until he actually tried them on. He hoped they were okay or that Graves would know how to get a better pair if they weren’t. Credence guessed he wouldn’t be able to borrow shorts from Graves or Kowalski, seeing as how they were so much bigger than him.

He was startled out of his reverie by the Accented Student, who had sat down beside him. Accented Student had been followed by Angry Girl. “This is ridiculous,” Angry Girl said to no one in particular.

There was a pause where Credence silently agreed with her and then Accented Voice pondered, “I wonder if it’s a test.” Up close, Credence could see Accented Voice was quite tan for a pale person, with faint freckles and reddish hair. “Perhaps we’re meant to trade with one another? As a way to make us mingle.”

Angry Girl seemed to take that into consideration and craned her neck to see what sizes the students around them were holding. “Hey,” she said to a mousy looking boy two rows behind them, “you wanna trade?” She held up some seriously large shorts that wouldn’t fit her or the mousy boy.

“No!” The mousy boy replied, turning his face up and refusing to look at her again.

“I think your theory gives Mr. Jerkface too much credit.” She deflated, letting her shirt and shorts dangle from her limp hands.

“Very possible.” Accented Voice folded his shirt and shorts and slipped them into his backpack and Credence and Angry Girl followed suit.

Done, Angry Girl held out her hand and said, “Tina Goldstein.”

Accented Voice politely shook her hand without making eye contact and replied “Newt Scamander.”

And then they both looked at Credence. He froze.

But then Tina Goldstein narrowed her eyes like she was thinking really hard and said, “You’re Credence Barebone, right?”

Shocked, Credence nodded. How could she possibly know that? Was she a witch?

“My sister knows your sister,” she explained. “They have like five classes together. Your sister is a real piece of work. Hates your haircut; complains about it all the time. That’s how I figured you were you.” This all came out in a rush, like each sentence was an apology for the one before it. She blushed and realized she might have said too much but added, “It’s not that bad. Your haircut, I mean. Hair grows back--” It sounded like there would be more, but she clamped her mouth shut.

Newt thankfully changed the subject. “You’re in my fifth period Latin.”

Credence hadn’t noticed anything about the other students in that class, he’d been so wrapped up in his own private panic. He nodded once and hoped they would all stop talking about him now.

“I wasn’t sure you would be in this class, since you went the long way to get here.” Though Newt wasn’t looking directly at him, Credence still felt like Newt was watching him.

“It was an accident.” Credence chewed his lip and stared at the floor. Speaking to new people wasn’t easy, and he was never sure what to say. Without lifting his head, he glanced at Newt.

“Well, you made it in the end. That’s all that matters.” Newt smiled, small and kind, and it reminded Credence of Kowalski.

“Cheers to that!” Tina beamed. “And cheers to the hot dogs in the cafeteria. They’re drowning in mustard, I love it.”

Tina and Newt giggled at the needed non-sequitur and Credence felt lighter. This was nice, now that the spotlight was off him. He wasn’t fond of hot dogs and didn’t have money for the cafeteria, but maybe he’d get to try one with mustard before the school year was out.

There was no one else in line now and everyone was milling around the bleachers while Mr. Gnarlak carried the boxes to a side room. Suddenly there was a sound like a snake being stepped on, and they all looked around. The odd hiss was followed by, “Psst! Credence!”

Snapping his attention to the gym’s entrance, Credence saw Graves and Kowalski sticking their heads in. Having been spotted, they stuck their arms around the door and flapped them at Credence, beckoning him over.

“Who’re they?” Tina was incredulous, bothered by a class being interrupted even if they weren’t doing anything productive.

“That’s my Dom.” Credence spoke without thinking. It felt natural and right to admit it though, even though he didn’t really know what it meant. He stepped away from the bleacher and towards Graves when a hand went around his wrist. Startled he looked down and saw Newt holding him back, Newt’s face concerned and his green eyes peering straight into Credence’s black ones.

“What did you say?” Newt’s voice was breathless with fright.

Credence grimaced, feeling put on the spot and now more desperate to be with Graves. “I… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He tugged his wrist out of Newt’s grasp and saw Newt’s eyes flicker to the band-aid and sores. Shame washed over Credence and he ran to Graves.

He was followed by the sound of racing footsteps and Tina Goldstein yelling, “Hey, get back here!”

Graves and Kowalski grinned in welcome and made room for Credence to escape through the gap in the door. Credence practically fell into Graves’s open arms. Graves squeezed Credence against his chest and Credence curled up and pressed tight to Graves, feeling his laughter like a private earthquake.

“That bad, huh?” Kowalski patted Credence’s back and Graves growled.

Tina barked “Excuse you!” while Newt called “Credence!” and the door to the gymnasium slammed shut with finality. It was suddenly quite crowded in the hallway and Credence shut his eyes and turned his face into Graves to hide.

“Hello!” Kowalski was ever jovial.

“We can’t just leave class, you know! The bell hasn’t even rung!” Tina was Tina.

“Good afternoon.” Newt was polite but his voice was tight.

“Hi!” Kowalski tried again. “I’m Kowalski. Or Jacob. I mean, I’m both, but you can pick one.”

Newt probably nodded but Credence couldn’t see it, but he did hear Newt’s subdued tone. “Newt Scamander.”

“Scamander?” Graves’s deep voice vibrated against Credence’s ear. “You related to Theseus Scamander?”

“My older brother.”

“He was captain of the rowing team at your old school, right? Won the international regatta a few years back?”

Newt didn’t say anything, so Credence assumed he must have nodded because Graves said in a tender voice, “He was a nice guy. A hero amongst rowers all over the world.”

There was a silence so heavy that Credence cracked an eye open and peeked at Newt. Newt was looking at his feet, his hair hiding his face from view. Kowalski moved closer to Newt and put his hand on Newt’s shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy. You want a ride home?”

“Class isn’t even over!” Tina complained, but just to prove her wrong, the bell rang.

“Let’s get away from the door.” Graves directed everyone away from the gym, which suddenly sounded like there was a stampede of rhinos inside.

Graves walked with his arm around Credence’s waist, his fingers tickling Credence’s hipbone. Tina followed like she was going to explode the second they were outside, and Kowalski was trying to small talk Newt, who still wasn’t looking up.

They exited the building onto Shaw Field, a grassy expanse beneath a clear blue sky. Graves kept leading them across the wide lawn even though Tina pointed out “The bus stop is _that_ way!”

“Bus, shmuss!” Kowalski waved the idea away. “We got cars! With seatbelts and everything!”

Tina stopped walking, which made Kowalski stop walking, which made Graves stop walking and tug Credence to his side. “I don’t need a ride,” Tina said. “I’m just over there.” She pointed to a set of taller, stone buildings on the other side of campus, barely visible over the gymnasium and low slung main campus.

Newt put a hand over his eyes to block the sun. “Come to think of it, I think I am as well.” He heaved his paunchy backpack a little higher on his shoulder. “I’m a bit turned around at the moment, but I live in the dormitory.”

“Well, great! That’s a real short commute!” Kowalski rubbed his hands together. “I’ll walk you guys over there, show you the ropes.”

For a split second, Tina looked like she might object, but surprisingly she conceded. “That would be very nice, Mr. Kowalski. Thank you.”

“Mr. Kowalski’s my dad. Just call me Jacob,” Kowalski chuckled.

“Thank you, Jacob.” Newt finally smiled again.

“We’ll see you around,” Graves said, turning himself and Credence back towards the field. “I’m giving my boy a ride home.”

At that, Newt pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything more. He reluctantly turned away from Graves and Credence and trotted after Kowalski and Tina.

Glancing over his shoulder, Credence watched them go, hoping to see them all again tomorrow. They weren’t so bad; it was sort of nice to not be the only lost lamb, as Graves would surely call them all.

“Come on, Credence. Let’s get out of here.” Graves’s hand on Credence’s hip was hot and possessive.

Credence let his head tip against Graves’s shoulder as they loped across the lawn, the school a noisy thing being left behind them.


	5. Ice Cream

Graves’s car was sleek, black, and very, very old. “My dad’s a collector.” Graves proudly ran his hand along the long, pointed nose of the car. “He has no idea I drive them around.” He laughed his amazing laugh and Credence let it wash over him. Graves opened the passenger door for Credence and closed it behind him.

Everything inside the car was silver and wood and masculine and Credence felt wickedly special.

Getting settled and starting the car, Graves turned to Credence as the engine roared. “Want to ruin your dinner?”

That didn’t seem like a good idea but Graves seemed so pleased with the notion that Credence wanted to say yes, consequences be damned, though it turned out to be rhetorical; before Credence could get out an answer, Graves was already pulling away from the curb and ferrying the them into the unknown.

“So, Credence Barebone,” Graves lurched the car into another gear, “what do you like to do for fun? Besides pinch yourself.”

It didn’t sound mean the way he said it but Credence shrank in embarrassment. Fun was not really a word that ever applied to things Credence got to do. It was more like his whole life was divided into Could and Should. He should go straight home to Ma, he should go do his chores, he should not be in a fancy car with a fancy boy. He could stay up at night and think, he could go to school now, he could not get home late or else.

Mature trees cast shadows over the car as they drove down a shady lane, weaving through the stately neighborhood around the school. The houses were large, beautiful islands in seas of manicured gardens and grass.

“I like...” Credence cleared his throat. Disuse made talking tickle. “I liked reading _Harry Potter_.” Lunch in the library had been fun, he was pretty sure. “What, um, what do you like to do?” Credence’s eyes slid sideways and caught Graves’s glowing grin.

“I love reading _Harry Potter_ and I love things that are too uncouth to say until we get to know each other better. Do you like ice cream?”

“I think so.” Credence pondered if he’d ever been allowed ice cream and nothing recent came to mind. Ma wasn’t big on sweets or frivolous things.

“Think so? You don’t know so?” The tone wasn’t exactly accusing but there was something angry in it. They came to a stop sign and Graves stopped long enough to turn to Credence and say, “Your home life sucks and I’m going to fix it.” He turned his attention back to the road and they started moving again. “But first,” the grin crept back onto his face, “we figure out if you’re more chocolate or vanilla. I’m a cookie dough man, myself.” Graves side eyed Credence. “You look like a strawberry kind of boy.” Then thankfully he laughed like all was forgiven.

The neighborhood thinned out into an old shopping district with lead window storefronts and dates like 1881 on the crests of the brick and mortar buildings. Graves pulled into a slanted parking spot in front of a store with curly gold letters that read: _Obscurus_.

Graves got out and went around the car to open the door for Credence, which made Credence’s face feel hot. He left his backpack in the footwell and walked with Graves side by side into the stuffy little shop. The display window featured a spray of playing cards suspended with clear thread and a dusty top hat with a stuffed rabbit sitting in it. “It’s dorky, I know,” Graves rolled his eyes while he held the shop door open for Credence, “but that just means nobody but me comes here.” The inside was cramped with tables and shelves covered in weird toys and boxes promising to delight your friends and confound your coworkers.

In the back was another great mystery: a rounded glass case humming and putting out hot puffs of air over their feet. In it were six tubs of ice cream, in six different flavors, and behind the case was an ancient man with big ears and a bald head. He wore a very nice vest with a gold chain hanging from a pocket. “Yea?” The wizened man squinted at Graves. “And what do you want?” He made it sound like he’d had to put up with this exact problem from this exact young man for all of eternity.

“Hey, Red.” Graves put on his most winsome smile. “This is my new friend Credence. Can you believe he’s never had ice cream before? When I heard that, I knew I had to take him to the best ice cream in town.”

“Bah,” said Red, waving his hand like Graves’s words were a bad smell. “It’s just cheap shit and you know it.”

“Come on, old man. You know the Obscurus ambiance adds magical flavor.” Whatever Graves was doing was working; there was a hint of a grin behind Red’s scowl.

“Alright, alright, enough snake-oil. Cookie dough in a cone. And for you?” Red raised an eyebrow at Credence.

Credence blushed and studied the contents of the case. Vanilla, chocolate, cookie dough, rocky road, raspberry sorbet, and, “Strawberry, please.”

“Ya see that?” Red wagged a big spoon at both boys. “Manners! That’s why he’s gettin’ _two_ scoops!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Graves said breezily. “I was going to get him two scoops, anyway.”

There was something cozy about the flippant way Graves and Red regarded each other. Red made a lopsided tower of ice cream and handed it to Credence, who took it with a quiet thank you, and then Red made one big scoop balanced precariously on an inadequate cone for Graves, who took it with a “Thanks, old man,” before taking a huge lick all the way around the rim. Credence couldn’t take his eyes away from Graves’s tongue.

Done, Graves handed his cone to Credence and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He handed Red a twenty dollar bill and snapped, “Don’t fight me!”

Which didn’t make sense until Red snapped back, “I don’t need your paltry change!” And he turned his back on them to work an iron and brass cash register that made loud clanging noises.

Graves took his cone back and leaned close to Credence and whispered, “Run!” He tugged Credence’s coneless hand and bolted them both out of the shop. Credence could hear Red shout “God dammit Graves!” just as the shop door clanked shut behind them.

On the sidewalk, Graves slowed down to a leisurely pace and didn’t let go of Credence’s hand until they were a safe distance away from the shop. “He always tries to give me my change, but he needs it more than I do. I’m the only one that goes in there, I swear.”

Credence wished they would’ve held hands a little further, but he was also trying to keep his ice cream from keeling over. He took a big lick from bottom to top and shuddered at the sweet chill.

Graves was eyeing him and asked, “You like it? We can trade if you don’t.”

Credence blustered, “I love it!”

“Yeah?” Graves’s face lit up, his smile scrunching his eyes. “We can try all the other flavors, too. The vanilla is a little gross, but you only live once, right?”

Credence nodded his agreement with that logic because he trusted Graves’s opinion. They were strolling down the avenue, licking up their yummy mess, and peering into shop windows as they passed.

“There’s a park around here.” Graves gestured up the block. “Let’s find a bench and get to know each other.” Graves bumped shoulders with Credence. “Unlock the mystery of Credence Barebone.”

“Oh-okay,” Credence said shakily. He was getting nervous about wrong answers and not being mysterious after all.

Around the corner was a square of green with a dark gazebo in the center, lined with a rainbow of flowers. Graves lead him into the shade of the gazebo and they sat side by side, knees touching, ice cream dripping down their hands.

“Where were you before this? Before Ilvermorny, I mean,” Graves asked.

“Home.” Credence licked a pink puddle off of his thumb. “Ma had me learn from books, when I wasn’t doing chores.”

“That sounds lonely.” Graves’s brow furrowed as he swirled his cone on his tongue.

Credence shrugged. “There’s lot of kids in and out of Ma’s house. She fosters for a little while and then they go… somewhere else.”

“But not you?”

Credence couldn’t help but stare at Graves’s mouth making clean work of his ice cream. “Uhm,” he tried to gather his thoughts back to the question, “I’ve been there far back as I can really remember.” He absently kitten licked his own mess. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Graves looked profoundly uncomfortable at Credence’s answer, but shook it off by holding his ice cream up to Credence’s lips and saying, “Try mine.”

Their eyes met and Credence obediently opened his mouth and licked. It was bright sugar compared to the mellow sweetness of strawberry. “It’s good. Thank you.” Credence held his own cone out to Graves, not quite brave enough to lift it to Graves’s lips. “Try it?”

Graves took Credence’s wrist gently, lifted the cone up to his mouth, and licked a long stripe from top to bottom. He didn’t break eye contact. “Thanks,” he grinned.

Credence knew he must have turned as pink as his ice cream. Something about Graves made Credence feel pleasantly weird. He didn’t have time to examine the feeling though as Graves’s next question came. “So you learned Latin from a book? By yourself?”

Credence nodded and his stomach plummeted at the reminder of the horror of fifth period.

“So you never had to speak it, right? And no way to hear it.”

It seemed like such a stupid, pointless endeavor when you said it out loud.

Graves made a dismissive noise. “Only the Pope speaks Latin. Mr. Bowtruckle is so pretentious.” That was Credence’s Latin Professor, a tall, stick thin man with a squeaky voice. Graves pushed his leg into Credence, their thighs hot where they met. “Hey, I’ll tell you a secret. It’ll help you with that class.” He leaned closer to Credence and lowered his voice. “Mr. Bowtruckle’s first name is _Pickett_.” This made Graves giggle. “So just remember that, whenever you’re mad or sad or scared. Just think, this guy’s name is Pickett and his bow tie is always crooked, am I right? You can’t be scared of a Pickett with a crooked bow-tie.” Graves sat back and finished his ice cream. “Anyway,” he said between crunches of his cone, “he’s more scared of the students than you are of him.”

It was the last bit that really helped Credence re-think the day. He’d had his fair share of people making fun of his name, so that wouldn’t work, and some students, like Newt, wore the trim black bow-tie that was an option of the school uniform. Credence, Graves, and Kowalski had all opted for the regular tie instead, but a bowtie looked nice on Newt, Credence thought.

Graves was studying Credence’s thinking face. “And you know,” Graves bumped his knee against Credence, “if you’re ever scared of _me_ , just remember my name is really _Percival_.” He snorted. “But don’t ever call me that. It makes me sounds like a knight of the round table.”

Graves in armor on a white steed riding to Credence’s rescue was easy to picture, so really, Percival was the perfect name for Graves. “Then… what should I call you?” It would be nice to have a name to call out, if Credence ever needed to.

“Anything but Percy.” Graves winked and then his face took a solemn turn. “We’ll figure it out. Keep trying stuff on each other till something feels right.”

Credence tried to quell the rising anxiety that he might call Graves something worse than Percy. He distracted himself by trying to finish his ice cream but there was a whole scoop left. Pitifully, he held it out to Graves and asked, “Help me?”

“Should we Lady and the Tramp it?” Graves cocked an eyebrow at Credence.

Credence didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded anyways and was glad when Graves cupped one of his hands around Credence’s ice cream hand and his other hand around Credence’s neck, pulling him closer. “Come here.” Their mouths met on the ice cream and Graves’s eyes were crinkled with mirth and Credence’s lips were cold and sweet and everything felt like light sparkling on water and then _plop!_ The final scoop tipped over and onto the ground.

“Whoops,” Graves laughed and caught up in the absurdity, Credence laughed, too, and the laughter built on each other until Credence’s sides hurt and he felt a little sick but he kept laughing anyway. Eventually Graves got the hiccups which made Credence laugh even harder which made Credence begin to cough. Slowly, the commotion died away like the last embers of a fire, leaving them in the warm, private quiet of the gazebo. Graves didn’t take his hands off Credence and Credence felt shockingly happy. “Hmm,” went Graves, a noise between thinking and giggling with your mouth closed. When he spoke again his voice was soft and low. “You can ask me anything, you know.”

Credence felt the permission like a weight being lifted and pressed down simultaneously. Until this moment, he hadn’t thought to ask anything at all, content with Graves taking the lead. Biting his lip, he tried to think of the most important thing he would need to know right now, just in case this was the only question he would get to ask. What would help him plan ahead, help him sleep tonight if the answer might be hard to take? There was only one thing he needed to know: “What do I do?” He ducked his chin to his chest and peered up at Graves. “To be your Sub?”

Graves sucked in a breath through his teeth. His whole body faced Credence, his knee on the bench, his head tipped against a support post. “Well,” he said carefully, “you just have to be my good boy, and I’ll take care of you.”

Being good was all that Credence ever tried for, and he hoped being good for Graves would be easier and more worthy than being good for Ma. Outside of the privacy of the gazebo, Ma was wondering where Credence was, wondering why he wasn’t home to do her bidding. The light had changed around them; it had grown a little golden and later than it should be. This began to sink in and Credence felt like he was coming back down to earth.

“What’s the matter?” Graves’s large palm settled on Credence’s knee.

Credence shook his head. If he said it out loud, this perfect afternoon would be over, and Credence wasn’t ready for that.

Graves took the empty cone from Credence’s hand and set it aside. Free, Credence’s hands twisted together in his lap as Graves took Credence’s face in his hands and said, “Look at me.” When Credence complied, Graves commanded, “Tell me what’s bothering you. Was it what I said?”

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, Credence answered sadly, “I think I have to go home. Ma might be mad...”

Graves’s face darkened. His thumbs swept underneath Credence’s eyes and then across his lips before Graves took his hands away and stood up. Without speaking, he held out his hand to Credence, and when Credence took it, he hauled Credence to his feet and didn’t let go. They walked back to the car, interlocked fingers swinging breezily between them. In front of Red’s store, Graves said in an earnest and agitated voice, “I’m going to take care of it, Credence. I’ll figure it out.” He yanked Credence to face him and squeezed Credence’s hand in his. “I won’t do it the way she does it. I promise.” And with that, Graves let go of Credence to open the passenger door for Credence.

Credence stumbled his way in, puzzling over Graves’s words. They pulled away from Obscurus in silence, both thinking, worried in their own ways.

Graves handed Credence his phone: it was big, shiny, and black and the back had a snake on a shield and the word _Slytherin_ written above it in silver. “Put your address in here. And hit save.” Credence fumbled with it; he’d never really held a mobile before. Ma wouldn’t let him have one, and she herself had a private landline. He did his best and handed the phone back to Graves, who grumbled a thanks and set the phone face up on the dash. It began to read directions in an accent like Newt’s.

They went up the street, past the park, and turned left on Miller Lane. They were quiet, Credence watching Graves’s brow furrow; the way Graves was wound up he looked like lightning would come out of his eyes. It wasn’t until they turned from Miller Lane onto Farrell Avenue (which the phone pronounced as ‘feral’) that Credence whimpered, “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m mad at your Ma.” Graves sighed. “And I’m mad that we don’t have more time to talk.” His elbow stuck out of the open window, his fingers pressed against his lips, and his other hand rested on the steering wheel. “It’s okay, though.” He glanced over at Credence. “I have things I want to say and this’ll give me time to think about how to say them.” A lighter mood came over him and he winked and smirked at Credence, making Credence’s heart flutter. “I’ll give you some homework. Think of three things to tell me about yourself. Not basic things like your name. Real things, just for me.”

Sitting up very straight and proper, Credence nodded and tried not to panic. Three unbasic things might be difficult to conjure, but for Graves he would think of something.

Graves’s phone interrupted cheerily, “You’ve arrived at your destination!”

Both boys turned to look at Credence’s house. For some reason it didn’t look the same as it did that morning; that morning it was just a big, plain box but now with Graves looking at it, the whole building seemed to have become an unwelcoming gray, like the house itself had decided to be overcast despite the nice weather around it.

Graves’s hand landed on Credence’s knee and squeezed. “You have my number.” His thumb rubbed the rough fabric of Credence’s slacks. “I live in Woolworth Heights but I can get here in five minutes.”

Credence pressed his knees together, trapping Graves’s fingers like Credence could trap the whole boy. He was sure he knew Graves’s number by heart, but he wasn’t sure how he could get to Ma’s phone, sitting on the side table in her bedroom, but because Graves asked, Credence would try, if he needed to. Whether Graves asked because he liked to be prepared for all emergencies, or if he just wanted Credence to check in, Credence didn’t know, and he didn’t want to ask, because that seem like a step closer to having to get out of the car.

They sat quietly gazing at each other for a long string of heartbeats. Graves’s eyes flickered from Credence’s eyes to his lips and back, and he leaned forward slightly. Credence was sure something was supposed to happen, but Graves sat back again and stared at Credence’s mouth. After a thick moment, Graves cleared his throat and said, “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

It was like all the air was sucked out of Credence’s lungs. All day he’d been sure he wouldn’t get a tomorrow with Graves, and now hope broke like a dawn between the trees. “I want that. Please,” he whispered, not even aware he himself had spoken.

A blinding happiness crossed Graves’s face and suddenly it was gone; his eyes slid off of Credence’s face to something over his shoulder. “Shit,” Graves sneered. “Is that your Ma?” He took his hand out from between Credence’s knees and gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.

Credence paled and turned around. Ma moved from the open door of the house to come out enough to sit on the steps of the porch. She had no expression on her face; she just coolly sat there, observing the boys in the long vintage car parked in front of her house. The world turned very fuzzy and Credence’s ears began to ring.

And then there was a soothing sensation along Credence’s scalp—Graves’s strong fingers in Credence’s hair, stroking and stopping to pull lightly. And there was a shushing sound and then Graves’s deep voice quiet and near. “Breathe, Credence.”

At the command, air filled Credence’s lungs. With a great sigh, the ringing stopped and color returned. The hands in his hair didn’t stop petting and sometimes tugging, and Graves said, “It’s okay, Credence. I’ll take care of it.” And Credence believed every word.

“Alright, come back to me, Credence Barebone.” There was a smile in Graves’s voice but his face was soft around the eyes and hard around the mouth. Credence took another gulping breath in and shaky breath out. Graves’s hands slid around Credence’s ears and came to rest on his cheeks. “Better?”

Credence nodded. Being held by Graves was significantly better than looking at Ma and feeling sick.

“You want me to go in with you? Smooth things over?”

Credence studied the handsome devil’s face and concluded that Ma would not like it, so he shook his head no and mewled, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you out around the corner, how about that? Then she won’t see us.”

Credence tucked the hope of another ride in the car with Graves into his heart and built courage around it. He nodded again and felt a little more ready to face Ma.

Graves pressed his thumb to Credence’s lips like he wanted something and then swept both thumbs across Credence’s cheekbones. “Okay. Tell me what I want.” Graves leaned forward, his face scant inches from Credence’s, and he looked at Credence’s mouth for a long moment before catching Credence’s eyes.

Credence licked his lips. “Three things, just for you.”

“Good boy.” Graves’s praise wrapped around Credence like soft rope, keeping him comfortably bound to Graves’s full attention. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Again, a thumb pushing lightly against Credence’s lips. “I won’t be so busy. We can have lunch on the lawn. How does that sound?”

When Credence opened his mouth to mumble an answer, the tip of his tongue brushed the pad of Graves’s thumb and both boys seem to light up. Suddenly, Credence felt unbearably hot and his clothes felt unbearably tight, and as he began to apologize, Graves pushed the tip of his thumb into Credence’s mouth for just a split second and then Graves laughed with delight. “You’re perfect. You have no idea.”

Credence’s whole world narrowed down to just Graves and his happiness and the impossibility of how nice it all was.

And then that came crashing down as Graves said, “Now get out there.” His large hands stopped cradling Credence’s face and instead gripped his shoulders. “You’ll be fine.” Which seemed like a promise not even Graves could make, but it was all that Credence had, so he nodded feebly and picked his backpack up and opened the car door and got out, and faced Ma and her indecipherable expression. He turned back to the car to close the door and look at Graves one last time.

Graves’s face settled back into the fearsome creature he’d been at school, cool and demanding. He was looking past Credence to Ma, and then his eyes caught Credence once more and he smiled like a little secret. “You can do it,” he said, and that was that.

Credence trembled and nodded and left the safety of Graves and somehow got himself to move towards the uncertainty of his home. Up the old, broken cement path to the chipped paint steps where Ma sat. Her face hadn’t changed the whole time. It was the thoughtful fury Credence recognized to mean that he was in the wrong and she would fix him. She stood up and they silently went into the house. As she shut the door behind them, Credence heard the engine of Graves’s car roar back to life and move away.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” That was the truth, at least.

Mary Lou Barebone considered the boy she had been raising and then held her hand out.

Credence immediately and intimately understood the unspoken command and he removed his belt with numb fingers. He felt cold and hollow as he put the belt into her upturned palm. She took it and climbed the stairs to the second story and he followed, head hung low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am only posting this story on Ao3. I just found out that someone tried to post it as their own on Wattpadd. That's not okay. :-(


	6. Three Things

A cloudless sky made for a colorless dawn and another sleepless night left Credence dull and gray. His backpack pressed painfully along his well punished shoulders and spine. It wasn’t what he was usually used to, but he was thankful his hands had been spared. Writing notes in class and hopefully holding hands with Graves, for even a moment, would be easier than yesterday, except… all night and into the morning Graves’s phone number roared in Credence’s mind like a thunderstorm. _I should have called_ , Credence thought. Graves had said: _If she does it again, tell me right away_.

And Credence hadn’t. He knew he couldn’t because after Ma strapped him, she sent him to his room and there had been no way for him to come back down without her knowing. Or, that’s what he tried to convince himself. There was a little daydream he’d tried to ignore all night, that Credence had snuck out the window, climbed down from the roof, and in the dark alley below saw Graves waiting. How Graves would have known Credence needed him, the dream did not supply, but it comforted and tormented Credence in waves until finally the alarm went off and he could go downstairs and leave the house without fear of further punishment. He made breakfast for everyone as quickly as he could and escaped to the bus stop before Ma could revoke the privilege to go to school.

Chastity huffed in disgust beside Credence. She’d been staring down the street, watchful of the bus coming, but she turned and narrowed her eyes at Credence. “And where were you, anyway? You think you can go do whatever you want just ‘cause now she lets you out of the house?”

“I...” Credence didn’t know where to begin. His lovely, perfect afternoon with Graves felt like something that he didn’t want to share with someone he knew was going to call it something ugly. “I made a friend.”

“Oh ho?” Chastity’s eyes narrowed even further and her lip curled up. “You? You made a _friend_? And what were you doing with your ‘friend’?” Clearly, she thought Credence was making it up.

“We were talking.” That was still the truth, just enough of it to keep the rest safe.

“Yeah, what about?” She sneered.

Credence’s mouth opened and then closed again and again. There wasn’t anything he wanted to say to Chastity. He gawped for so long that the bus came and with a derisive snort, Chastity went back to ignoring him.

She hadn’t always been like this. When she first moved into Ma’s house, Chastity had been shy and sort of nice. Polite, at least. Two years at Ma’s house, though, and Chastity had grown mean to be tough. Nearly thirteen years with Ma and Credence had grown up to be quiet and smaller than his skin.

There weren’t that many students who took the bus to Ilvermorny so Credence thankfully had a seat to himself. He liked to sit by the window and watch the scenery change from the gray boxes of his neighborhood to seas of green with great waves of floral color. The closer they got to school, the farther back the houses would sit from the road and the more their tall trees and trimmed hedges hid iron fences. Credence wished he could be like that, could sit as far back as possible, hidden in walled gardens and grass, oblivious to the world around him. Graves could come with him and they could hide in the hydrangeas and… talk. Or do whatever Graves wanted to do. Credence wasn’t picky.

What Graves wanted… _oh no_. Three things! Credence had forgotten all about it in the haze of being beaten and the drowning feeling he’d drifted in all night. He scrambled to pull his notebook and pencil out of his backpack and scribble the first three, truest things that came to mind. They were short bursts on the page but once they were there he clapped the notebook shut and shoved it back in his bag. He didn’t exactly feel better having gotten that out of the way, but he reminded himself he could rewrite them if he thought of something else to say. He couldn’t really remember what he’d just written anyway, but at least Graves wouldn’t think Credence had ignored his request.

The bus pulled away from its last pick up and the last students on board walked past Credence like he was invisible. Only Credence liked to sit at the very front, where it was easiest to see out the side and front windows, so Credence was the first to notice the very odd car turn from a side street to be in front the bus.

The car itself was not unusual, but the occupants and the way they were moving was not normal. There was a lot of commotion from two figures in the front seats; either they were fighting or pantomiming Shakespeare. Suddenly the car jerked into the next lane and slowed down. The bus pulled up alongside it and Credence gasped.

Graves was hanging halfway out of the passenger side window, frowning as he studied the bus. Not wanting to attract the attention of anyone in the back of the bus, Credence knelt on the seat and kept his head ducked. He pressed one hand to the window for balance and waved the other, desperate for Graves to notice.

Graves did; he caught sight of Credence and grinned like a maniac before leaning back into the car and gesturing to the driver. A face peered from around Graves. It was Kowalski trying to steer and take a peek at a Credence. When Kowalski spotted Credence he also grinned widely and waved back.

It was like that the rest of the way to school, Credence in the bus and Graves and Kowalski in the car, trying to speak across the divide by gesticulating and silently laughing. There was a great disbelieving murmur from the back of the bus as everyone else tried to guess what was going on. At their final destination, the bus turned to drop off its riders at the school's front entrance and the car stopped just long enough for Graves to jump out before the car veered off in the other direction to park in their secret spot behind campus.

Credence was first off the bus and rushed toward Graves, who shouted “Credence!” and walked towards Credence with his arms outstretched. When they met, Credence practically crashed into Graves and Graves wrapped his arms Credence wonderfully, painfully tight. “Sorry I was late,” Graves said into Credence’s hair. “I tried to take the Excalibur this morning and my dad caught me. He was really mad but my mom thought it was hilarious.” He loosened the embrace and pulled them apart just enough to get his arm around Credence’s waist and walk them into school, side by side. “I had to call Kowalski to pick me up, and that’s why I missed you at the bus stop.” Other students churned around them as they were funneled through the front doors, and Graves pulled Credence closer to him by moving his arm from Credence’s waist to his shoulders, Graves’s elbow pressing down on Credence’s backpack.

Credence bit his lip at the sharp sensation and instantly regretted it, because Graves stopped talking (“Kowalski says hi--”) and studied Credence. “I’m sorry,” Credence mumbled and kept walking, right out from under Graves’s arm.

Graves stopped and tugged on Credence’s backpack to get him to stop, too. Credence very reluctantly turned to face Graves as other students went by them. Out of the corner of his eye Credence saw Chastity staring at them as she scurried to first period. She had no expression on her face, much like Ma’s face yesterday. Credence shuddered and snapped his eyes to the knot in Graves’s tie. That was as close as he could get to looking at Graves’s face.

Leaning forward to speak lowly and still be heard, Graves asked, “And why would you be sorry?” He put his hand just above Credence’s heart. “Is this okay?” When Credence nodded, dumbstruck, Graves rumbled, “But… not your back?”

Credence nodded again. He was grateful Graves didn’t ask him to do more.

“We’re going to the nurse.”

Credence didn’t hear Graves say that so much as Credence just reacted to it being said. It was hard to breath and harder still to wheeze out “Please, no.” He suddenly couldn’t see very well but that didn’t matter, because he shut his eyes and tried to leave the world.

Hot hands on his cold face. The timber of a voice in the ringing of his ears. Movement, the tilt of moving forward while the whole world quaked.

Wherever they stopped, it was quiet. Credence was sitting down and his backpack was neatly tucked between his knees. He knew that because his head was also between his knees and something was smoothing down his hair. He could finally make out Graves’s words.

“You wait here. I’m going to tell the teacher you’re sick.” Graves’s hand ran over Credence’s scalp in slow sweeps. “I’ll be right back. Take this.”

Something cold was pressed against the back of Credence’s hand where it rested over his ear. His fingers blindly grabbed at it. It was a metal water bottle, emerald green and full. Credence clutched it to his chest, letting it make a dewy spot on his tie.

As Graves backed away, Credence glanced up at him, just to make sure Graves wasn’t mad. Graves’s face wasn’t angry, but it looked fierce. He caught Credence’s eye and promised to be back as soon as possible. Credence’s lip wobbled and his nod was tiny, but he believed Graves.

Graves had taken Credence into a bathroom and set him in a stall. As he left, Graves closed the stall door behind him, sheltering Credence in a little makeshift room. Credence tried to breathe as deep as he could while he waited the minutes for Graves to return. On the floor in front of Credence’s backpack was Graves’s backpack, entrusted to Credence for safekeeping. Credence sat up straight and stayed vigilant.

The bathroom door opening again made Credence jump, but he settled when Graves opened the stall door and reentered. It was a tight squeeze, with Graves practically between Credence’s legs as they both straddled the bags.

Graves had his first aid kit in his hands. He was quiet when he spoke again; it was peaceful in the bathroom and they were alone, so he had no reason to raise his voice. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to patch up your back. You’re going to tell me why you don’t want to go to the nurse. Then we’ll decide what to do from there. Alright?”

“Alright.” The word came out of Credence like a leaf falling from a tree.

“Alright then.” Grave held out a hand and Credence took it.

He was pulled to his feet and led to the sinks. He couldn’t bring himself to look directly into any of the mirrors mounted above the row of old fashioned porcelain wash basins, but he slyly watched Graves move behind him. Graves took the water bottle from Credence and put it in a sink basin nearby and then he put the first aid kit down and opened it on a sink to their left.

Graves took off his blazer and rolled it up and put it on the rim of the sink in front of Credence. “You can rest your head, if you need to.” He tugged the collar of Credence’s coat. “This one, too.”

Blushing, Credence took it off and handed it to Graves, who folded it neatly and laid it on top of his own wadded up blazer. Credence turned his back to Graves.

“Lean forward.” Strong fingers rested on Credence’s neck, not pushing but guiding Credence down. Credence folded his arms on top of their coats and rested his forehead on his forearms. Graves made a noise like a dragon puffing out hot air, but Credence didn’t know what it meant. Next was a tug on Credence’s button down, right where it was tucked into the back of his slacks. “I’m going to lift this up, okay?” It wasn’t a question so much as a forewarning.

Graves pulled Credence’s shirt up; Credence could feel the chill of the morning air give him goosebumps and he couldn’t help but blush. Even Ma when she strapped him last night had done it over his shirt. He prayed he didn’t look ugly or too different.

Callused fingertips danced down Credence’s side, not quite ticklish.

“Credence.” Graves sounded a little choked. “There’s dried blood.” The not quite a tickle became a firm grip on Credence’s hips. “Tell me what happened.”

It was only possible to say anything because Credence wasn’t looking at Graves. He was in the dark of his tightly shut eyes, drifting in the quiet of the bathroom as classes raged on somewhere else. He was with his favorite person, who was running big, strong hands up and down Credence’s sides, skin to skin. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Credence began to speak as best he could.

Once he’d gotten home, Credence and Ma had gone straight upstairs. Chastity was probably in her room. The two younger kids they were housing were probably in their rooms downstairs. Credence and Ma stopped at the landing of the stairs up to the attic, Credence’s bedroom. She always strapped him there. He held out his hands but she saw the bandages and accused him of asking for care that he didn’t deserve. He denied asking and explained someone had seen his hands is all and offered to help. She said in her very serious voice that from now on she would punish him where no one could see, so the temptation to lie would be gone. She told him to kneel down and he did. She hit him with his belt across his back many times. He didn’t count because she didn’t ask him to. She let him keep his shirt on so he didn’t feel any trickles if there was blood. It always stung anyway. When she finished she was tired. She said she hoped Credence knew better than to tell anyone of his wickedness and shame. He said he knew, and then he asked to take a shower. This made her coldly furious and she hissed at him to go to his room and don’t come out. He did as he was told. He laid in bed and didn’t remember much after that. (He didn’t want to tell Graves about his daydream just yet. This didn’t seem like a good time.)

Graves's fingers were digging into Credence’s hips and Credence liked how that feeling helped him stay grounded. He didn’t want to float away from Graves. After Credence’s story, there was a pause and Credence glanced at the mirror. Graves’s face was twisted and he looked ready to shout something that Credence might not want to hear. He was a fearsome creature for Credence to appease, and Credence knew how to do just that. “I remembered what you asked.”

“What?” Graves seemed to be pulled out of some dark train of thought. “I asked?” This seemed to put him in new motion. He let go of Credence to get a paper towel and he wet it in a sink. He took his place behind Credence again and carefully dabbed at the worst parts of Credence’s back.

“Three things,” Credence murmured. “I wrote three things in my notebook. For you. About me.” Credence put his head back down and let himself feel Graves work. He sensed Graves reach for the first aid kit and heard him open a packet.

Fingers even more gentle than they were yesterday dabbed something gooey between Credence’s shoulder blades as Graves spoke again. “Thank you. I’ll read them during next period. What kind of things are they?”

Credence bit his lip and tried to remember. “True things,” was the best he could manage.

“You know,” Graves leaned away to get something else from the kit, “the nurse is very nice. They wouldn’t tell on you.”

Credence tightened up and begged, “Can… can _you_ do it for me? Please?”

Credence raised his head up just enough to watch Graves get some bandages from the first aid kit and open one. Graves gently, carefully put them one by one across Credence’s wounds.

He contemplated his work. “Do you like this?” Graves asked.

Credence felt the last bandage go on and Graves lower Credence’s shirt back down. Credence kept his head ducked as he timidly answered, “I like being with you. Is that what you mean?”

Graves shushed him and leaned over Credence, hovering his chest over Credence’s back. He was tall enough to put his own crossed his arms under Credence’s and still have some space between them. With Credence resettled, leaning on their tangled up arms, Graves’s face was very close to Credence’s, and Graves gently commanded, “Tell me something else you like.”

Surrounded by Graves’s strong body, Credence felt protected. Safe. Free.

His mind tried to fill the silence that followed. One thing, Credence could… he was… Nothing. The world began to dim, but Credence sucked in a great breath and held it and thought about Graves and how warm his hands were, how Credence could feel Graves’s callouses where Graves had touched Credence’s skin. Nobody else ever touched Credence, not like Graves did. _I want that_ , Credence thought, and let out his breath slowly. That was one thing he wanted badly for Graves to hear. “I like being touched by you.”

Graves let out his own breath, ghosting hot over Credence’s neck, giving Credence chills. “I’m really glad. I really like touching you,” Graves said. Credence felt something moist touch the nape of his neck, right where his hair started, and then Graves asked, “Can you tell me more things you like? Please.”

Credence preened and wiggled his hips, bumping into Graves. He shook his nervous thoughts loose and tried again. “I like... flowers, to look at flowers, on the way to school and in that little park with our gazebo.” He smiled into their looped arms as he said ‘our’, and pictured being there with Graves again. “I like the pink roses, the ones the color of strawberry ice cream.” Okay, one more thing. It was easier to think of things now, like once one good thing grew, it planted the seeds of more good to grow. “I like Red’s store. I’d like to know what all those weird things are, the strange toys and mysterious boxes.” Credence was sure Graves could convince Red to let Credence at least look a little, if not touch one or two toys.

“Of course,” Graves said happily. “You can learn all the magic you want!” He gently pulled his arms out from under Credence and stood up. Hands on Credence’s shoulder and hip, he helped Credence to stand up too. He scooped up both their blazers and shook them out, helping Credence into his and then putting his own on. He hefted both their backpacks onto one shoulder and took Credence’s hand in his. “Listen,” he said, stopping them just before they left the restroom, “Nurse Demiguise is actually really nice. I got pretty banged up in rowing last year and Kowalski got the flu real bad, and the nurse was really cool about it.” Graves squeezed Credence’s hand. Credence’s face was hot with shame. “Give them a chance? I promise Demiguise wouldn’t say anything to your Ma if you asked them not to.”

Credence swallowed around a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth, tried to say something, but nothing came out. It dawned on him that he was very, very tired. The day was long and it had only just started. His body tipped itself forward until he was tucked under Graves’s chin.

Arms placed carefully around Credence, Graves held Credence until the bell rang a few minutes later. “At least know that it’s an option. I’ll walk you to class. Come on.” Graves sounded worn out too, but he took Credence’s hand again and laced their fingers together and with his free hand he wiped his fingertips beneath Credence’s eyes and then swept once through Credence’s hair before leading them out into the bedlam of the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genderfluid Nurse Demiguise is a very quiet person who can easily disappear into the background. They have a partner named Occamy who has the sort of personality that can fill the entire room.
> 
> Kowalski met them both when he had the flu in junior year. Nurse Demiguise was tending to poor, leaking Kowalski when Occamy came in to bring Demiguise lunch, which included tea in a silver, egg shaped teapot. They shared with Kowalski and everyone had a nice chat.
> 
> Kowalski felt a lot better after that and he still considers Demiguise and Occamy his friends.


	7. Kneeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm so late! /o\

Outside of math class, Graves unshouldered Credence’s backpack and handed it to him with the promise that he’d be back to walk Credence to third period. Credence accepted it reluctantly and promptly unzipped it, yanked out his notebook, and blindly ripped out the page he’d written on the bus that morning. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at it as he handed his notebook to Graves to hold. Bemused, Graves watched while Credence folded the paper into a tiny lump and then traded the lump for his notebook back.

“You know,” Graves said, “you already told me three great things in the bathroom. This,” he held up the lump, “is just a bonus. So thank you.” He put the lump in his pocket. “I’m gonna save it for fourth period. Calc is boring as hell.” That sly smile lit up Graves’s face and made Credence feel prickles of heat all over. “Gimme a hint about what you wrote.”

“I don’t remember,” Credence mumbled, ducking his head and frowning.

That had a sobering effect on Graves, who put his fingers beneath on Credence’s chin and said, “You had other things on your mind.” He gently tilted Credence’s face up. “Have fun in math, if that’s possible. I’ll see you afterwards, just wait for me right here.”

“I will,” Credence promised.

The second bell rang and Graves departed with a wink and ruffle of Credence’s hair.

Math class went by fairly quickly, all things considered. Credence had to sit hunched forward so his tender back didn’t touch the chair, but he still managed to take a few notes and doodle. Another student asked a question that Credence wanted to ask but was too shy to put his hand up, so that was good, too.

The bell rang and Credence’s heart leapt. Standing outside the door, Credence trembled in delight at seeing Graves jog up to him. Graves’s hair fell into his eyes and made him look more rakish than usual.

“Kowalski wants to know where we’re having lunch,” Graves said, panting lightly and pushing his hair out of his face. “I thought out on the lawn, but you haven’t seen the cafeteria yet, right?” He took Credence’s backpack to carry and then took Credence’s hand to hold and started walking to the library. His thumb brushed Credence’s knuckles, sometimes pressing the spots Credence liked to bother.

Credence shook his head no and felt that tingle that being near Graves seemed to give him.

“I wanted some alone time,” Graves sighed as they neared the library, “but Kowalski’s bringing those kids from yesterday, so we should go play nice.”

Credence nodded, a little disappointed to not have more time with Graves but also elated to think he was invited to sit with people at lunch. Before the school year began, he’d been so sure it would be like home, where the other children spurned his attention and ignored him, afraid of something he would never actually do—rat on them to Ma. If only they knew how much trouble he always got in when she was mad, no matter who or what she was mad at! But all those nights staring at the ceiling and seeing so clearly the pattern repeat, they were a waste. His worried imagination had been wrong, it seemed. “I would like that, I think,” Credence quietly agreed.

That made Graves look over at him and smile, and there wasn’t the usual mischief in it but rather deep thought, like maybe Graves didn’t believe him or was reconsidering now that a halfwit like Credence thought it was a good idea to sit with those kids.

Credence backpedaled, “But… but you’ll stay with me now, for just a little bit?” His grip tightened around Graves’s hand.

“I would love to,” Graves squeezed his hand back even harder, and oddly that made the muscles in Credence’s neck and shoulders loosen. “Let’s have some us time.” Graves pulled him along, and went on, “The more the merrier, Kowalksi said. Tch.” He held the library door open for Credence with his free hand and lowered his voice as they entered. “Yesterday he was giving me a hard time about jumping the gun with you, and look at him today! Practically lining up interviews for Subs." Inside, Graves pointed to Mrs. Esposito’s desk. “You go sign in, and I’ll wait here where she can’t see me.” He let go of Credence and gave him a little push on the small of his back.

Credence timidly went up to the librarian. She didn’t even say a word to him as she flipped open a little ledger and had him sign and date his name. He thanked her very quietly and then returned to Graves’s side just as the second bell rang in the distance.

Graves put his arm around Credence’s waist and led them into the stacks, toward their little table in the back. He kept his voice down and continued where he’d left off. “I mean, I know he's nervous he won't find someone. Don't tell him I told you, but he's pretty scared anyone he asks will just say no."

This gave Credence pause. “Why would they say no?” That seemed inconceivable; why wouldn’t they want a nice Dom like Jacob Kowalski?

“I think he thinks he’s not handsome enough, or some shit like that. But looks aren’t everything.” They came to their little hidden desk and chair and Graves dropped their backpacks onto the desk. “I mean, you don’t like me just for my looks, right?” Though he was smiling, there was something off about it.

Credence swam in Graves’s eyes and he felt hot and right as he answered, “You’re the nicest person I ever met.” Nicest wasn’t the most accurate word, but it was the best that Credence could come up with. “Do you… do you like me?” It was an important question. Credence knew he couldn’t be liked for his awful looks, even if Graves teased him and called him cute, so there had to be some other reason Graves picked Credence when Graves could have had anyone he wanted.

Graves turned Credence until they were chest to chest and Graves had Credence wrapped in his arms, careful of Credence’s wounds. His voice was low and sweet. “I do like you, Credence Barebone. Very much.” His eyes roamed Credence’s face. “You look like someone I want to take care of… in a lot of different ways.” He gave Credence one of those jaunty winks and licked his lips. He took a step back, letting go of Credence. “I want to try something.” He took off his blazer and balled it up like had in the bathroom. He sat down in the chair, spread his legs, and put the ball between his feet. “Kneel here.”

Credence sank to his knees between Graves’s thighs, happy to test this two people, one chair arrangement. Once comfortably settled down, Credence’s heart beat a little faster and their quiet corner grew a few degrees warmer.

Graves loomed like a beast, smug over his prey. He fussed with the things on the desk before he turned his full attention back to his captive. “Gimme your hand, and tell me if your knees get sore or anything like that.” Credence complied and Graves took Credence’s hand in his own and frowned at the day old bandages. Graves gently peeled them off and then laid Credence’s hand palm down on Graves’s knee.

Redressing the sores, Graves’s attention was focused on Credence’s knuckles, giving Credence the chance to focus entirely on Graves’s face. It was a very nice face, with thick black eyebrows furrowing over deep black eyes, and a perfectly blunt nose over a wonderfully mean mouth. In comparison, Credence’s face was somehow both too soft and too pointy. Credence’s eyes wandered to the spot of white hair at Graves’s temple and he wondered if Graves had always had it or if there was a story of how it came to be.

“Like what you see?” Graves teased. Credence startled but nodded, his face hot.

Graves paused from his work to study Credence’s face. “You know, even if we didn’t have class together I would have found you.” His eyes roamed Credence’s pale, childish features. “When you ran into my arms after fifth period… I saw you, all the way down the hall. You stuck out.” Credence deflated a bit at that description but Graves pressed on, “You look like a mystery I want to untangle.” Graves saw something in Credence’s face that made Graves tilt his head slightly. “You know you’re good looking, right?”

Credence rocked back and stared open mouthed at Graves for a moment before he squeaked out, “I’m not!”

“Yes, you are.” Graves said with finality and turned back to Credence’s hands, putting on the last bandage and effectively ending the discussion. He picked up Credence’s hand and turned it this way and that, testing his handiwork, and once satisfied, he gave Credence’s fingers a quick kiss and then asked Credence for the other hand and the process began again, this time with a new, even more surprising conversation. “I’ve made my choice. I made it yesterday, the second I saw you. But you have two weeks to decide, you know.”

Credence rested his cheek on Graves’s knee, content to listen to Graves’s quiet voice float between them. “Decide what?” Credence prompted after a pause.

“Decide if I’m your Dom. Decide if you even want to be a Sub for anyone.” Graves dabbed antiseptic on Credence’s ring finger. “It’s not for everyone.”

Credence perked up. “Not everyone?” Was it really a special thing, after all, to be chosen? To chose? Credence had been happy just to be picked so quickly; to be picked at all, how lucky!

Graves momentarily let go of Credence’s hand to prepare a bandage. “These days, most people don’t bother. They think it’s just extra work, or they don’t need it. They don’t care at all about tradition.” He carefully threaded the butterfly shaped bandage between Credence’s middle and ring finger and smoothed it down with his calloused fingertips. It tickled. “I’ve been waiting for four years for my chance.” He kissed these fingers too and then put his own hands on Credence’s face, tilting Credence up and giving him a long look.

Credence didn’t know what compelled himself to do it, but he turned his face into Graves’s hand and nearly kissed his palm.

Graves smiled like a wolf. Credence smiled to himself and mentally cataloged all the ways that Graves had smiled at him so far. Like a shark; like a wolf. Unsure; beaming. Smirking; ice cream sweet.

Graves squeezed Credence’s torso with his legs the way Credence had done to Graves’s hand yesterday. “How are your knees? A blazer isn’t the best pillow.”

Credence shuffled around a bit, resettled, and murmured, “I’m fine.”

“Switch with me.” Graves abruptly stood up and grabbed Credence’s shoulders to keep him from tipping backwards. They somehow managed to get Credence spread-legged in the chair and Graves on his knees between. Leaning forward over Credence’s lap, Graves put his muscled arms around Credence and the back of the chair. He rested his chin on Credence’s stomach. “You look taller from down here,” Graves teased.

Credence may have looked taller, but Graves looked even more like an animal feasting on his prey. At any moment he could’ve sprung up and devoured Credence whole. Credence tentatively put his fingertips on Graves’s jaw. When Graves didn’t flinch away, Credence became bolder and trailed his fingertips up around Graves’s ears and through the white patch at his temple.

“That tickles,” Graves sighed happily.

“I’m sorry,” Credence breathed, still circling his fingers through Graves’s hair.

“Keep doing it.”

They stayed like that for a long, cozy while; quiet and hidden and content. Graves closed his eyes and just kept smiling, and Credence slowly began to smile freely, too. Eventually, Graves purred, “Let’s just do this for two weeks.”

Credence vaguely dreaded the possible answer, but in the warmth of Graves’s arms he felt safe. “What happens in two weeks?”

Graves cracked an eye open and peeked at Credence. “We become official. It’s announced at the fall festival, with the biggest bonfire you’ve ever seen. There should be a flier about it in your welcome packet.”

By the time Ma had given Credence the contents of the manila envelope that had been sent by Ilvermorny, there was only his folder and schedule left. The envelope had been thick when it had arrived, but Credence couldn’t even guess at what had been in it. Ma had deemed him responsible only for two necessary things: where to go and when to get there.

Credence nervously traced his finger over Graves’s eyebrow, hiding Graves’s eye behind Credence’s hand. He felt a little ashamed of not knowing anything.

Graves tipped his head back and caught Credence’s wandering finger between his teeth. He gave Credence a little nip. “Don’t worry,” Graves said, “you won’t miss it.” He settled his face back into Credence’s tummy, rubbing his check against Credence like a cat. “If you decide to keep me, I’ll proudly take you there.”

The mix of friction and words had a very strange and powerful effect on Credence. In the last thirty six hours, he’d been touched more and spoken to more nicely than all the hours of his life before that put together. He suddenly felt tingly and tight and something new, and his thoughts flew apart like shattered glass. He looked down at the top of Graves’s head and put his hand in Graves’s hair. Credence felt courageous and silly and sweaty. He heard himself ask, “Are you always like this?” He sounded hopeful and confused.

“No.” Graves’s voice was muffled in Credence’s shirt. “I’ve never been this inspired.”

Credence petted Graves’s hair the way he wanted Graves to pet him and Graves pressed his face into Credence, making a hot point of focus in Credence’s skin.

“I don’t touch people,” Graves muttered. “You’re different.”

“I haven’t either,” Credence confessed. “Ever.”

Graves stilled. Credence swore he could feel Graves’s smile just above his belly button. “Good,” Graves growled.

Of course, that’s when the bell decided to ring. Graves made a very grumpy sound and pressed his face harder into Credence for a split second before leaning back and gazing up at Credence. “Let’s go rescue Kowalski from your playmates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta R for helping me sort out where the world building will go!


End file.
